


The Last Wave By

by Starfish



Category: due South
Genre: Episode Related, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-05
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2020-01-05 01:34:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18355895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starfish/pseuds/Starfish
Summary: It looked like slow motion, just like in the movies -- one minute Vecchio was upright and then he was falling.(Originally posted as part of a remix challenge in May of 2004.  Please do read the original first.)





	The Last Wave By

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Death of Raymond Vecchio](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11129826) by [axiom_of_stripe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/axiom_of_stripe/pseuds/axiom_of_stripe). 



He watched the other Ray (he refused to call him "the real Ray", even in his own head) out of the corner of his eye when he thought he could get away with it. No doubt, the guy was good -- might even make a good partner if he got over himself some, and if Ray was looking to trade in his current model, which he most certainly was not.  
  
"How the hell did we ever work this with Fraser?"  
  
"Don't know -- Go!!"  
  
It was almost like dancing, with guns, but Ray wasn't about to say _that_ out loud, so he bobbed and wove and ducked and ran and kept half an eye on his partner and shot at the bad guys until --  
  
  
  
It looked like slow motion, just like in the movies -- one minute Vecchio was upright and then he was falling. Ray was moving toward him before he hit the ground, screaming "Officer down!" even though he didn't have a radio, even though there was no one to hear except Fraser and Thatcher, up on the Ferris wheel.  
  
Fuck, it looked bad, too -- blood all over the place, a hole in Vecchio's shirt -- stupid fuck wasn't wearing a vest, none of them were; what the fuck had they been thinking --  
  
Blood. All over the place. _He's bleeding out_ , Ray thought, and it sounded like someone else's voice in his head. Like Fraser's voice, in fact, and what would Fraser do?  
  
 _Direct pressure_ , he heard from somewhere, and he took a deep breath and put his hands over the hole in Vecchio's shirt. The blood was hot under his palm and slimy under his fingers, and he fought the urge to pass out and then the urge to throw up. Vecchio's eyes were flickering open and closed and his face looked almost gray. He looked like he was --  
  
"Damn you, not after all this -- don't you fucking die on me, Vecchio."  
  
Vecchios eyes opened a little and his lips moved like he was trying to say something, but nothing came out. His eyes closed again.  
  
"You hear me, Vecchio? Don't you god-damned up and die after everything I've done."  
  
Ray looked around wildly for some kind of help. "Somebody call 9-1-1!" he yelled, and then he saw a guy in the crowd with a cell-phone. "Tell them 'officer down', okay?" he yelled at the guy, and the guy nodded and Ray could see his mouth move as he talked into the phone.  
  
When he looked back down at Vecchio, he couldn't tell if he was breathing or not, and suddenly Ray realized he'd forgotten every single thing he'd ever known about CPR. How fast were you supposed to do the breathing? What about the chest-compression thing? Fuck, fuck, why hadn't he paid attention --  
  
And then, like magic, he saw Mountie red, and dark hair, and thank God, Fraser to the rescue, except it wasn't Fraser. "Oh, my God. Is he breathing?" Thatcher said, and Ray shook his head.  
  
"I don't know, I don't think so," he said, and his voice sounded shaky, but he'd worry about that later.  
  
Thatcher leaned down and put her face right next to Vecchio's for a second. She frowned and licked her fingers and held them over his mouth. "He's breathing, just barely," she said, straightening up. She gestured at the blood all over his hands. "Are you injured?"  
  
Ray shook his head again and swallowed -- Jesus Christ, this was disgusting -- and said "I'm okay. Where's Fraser?"  
  
Thatcher looked around. "He went after Muldoon, but I'm afraid the delay was just enough to allow him to escape."  
  
Ray nodded. "Listen," he said, "you should probably go find him. I think he'd -- He should be here. In case --"  
  
"Yes, of course," Thatcher said. "You're right. I'll go -- will you be all right?"  
  
Which was ridiculous, of course -- "Yeah, lady, I'm not the Ray Vecchio who got _shot_ ; I'll be just peachy. Go find Fraser. Before --"  
  
She stood up. "Understood. I'll be right back." She took off at a run, and Ray had about a second to think _oh, yeah, she's a cop, too_ before Vecchio made a weird noise like a cough and a sigh together.  
  
 _Fuck. Bastard wasn't going to make it_. "Keep fucking breathing, come on, asshole, come on ..."  
  
Where the _fuck_ was that ambulance?  
  
Where the _fuck_ was Fraser?  
  
If Vecchio died -- which he wasn't going to, but if he did -- how was Ray ever going to be able to face Ma again? Vecchio probably hadn't even had time to see them all -- no time for one of those huge Sunday dinners where everyone was yelling at everyone else, and the kids had to eat at the card table because there was no room at the big table -- Fraser'd only taken him once, but after that he'd gone on his own a couple of times, just for the noise.  
  
"Bet you missed your Ma's cooking in Vegas, huh?" he said to Vecchio. "She probably in the kitchen right now, got a pot of red sauce on the back burner and maybe some polenta going ... how the hell do you eat that stuff? Jesus, she said it was your favorite, tried to stuff me with it, but I just couldn't eat it. Think I hurt her feelings a little. Made up for it with the lasagna, though."  
  
Ray knew he was babbling, but he couldn't stop talking. "You ought to see the kids -- they've really grown since you left. Maria was talking about having another one, but then her and Tony started fighting again, so who knows. And Frannie was kind of engaged there for a while, but I guess it didn't take. She's not half bad, as sisters go -- you got lucky there, I think."  
  
"Ray?"  
  
He looked up and there was Fraser, finally, coming toward him at a run. "You get him?" he asked, although he was pretty sure he knew the answer to that already.  
  
"No, he had a car waiting," Fraser said, dropping down to his knees next to Ray. "How is he?"  
  
"Still breathing," Ray said, even though he hadn't really even been paying attention to that little detail -- it just didn't seem possible that someone could die when you were talking to them.  
  
"Would you like me to --" Fraser pointed at Ray's hands on Vecchio's chest, and when Ray looked down he could see movement -- so Vecchio _was_ breathing, good -- and he shook his head.  
  
"I'm okay," he said. "Ambulance needs to get here, though."  
  
Fraser cocked his head. "About a minute away," he said after a second, and for a change, Ray didn't even want to call him on his bullshit, he just wanted him to be right like always. Fraser made a move like he wanted to touch Vecchio, to _do_ something, and his hand ended up on Vecchio's shoulder. The fingers tightened and turned white, and Fraser made a noise that sounded like "God _dammit_."  
  
Ray looked at Fraser then, really looked, and it was like one of those magic pictures where if you stare at it long enough, there's a whole nother picture underneath it, and once you see it, you wonder why you didn't see it before, because it's so obvious --   
  
Underneath it all, Fraser was about one thin step away from losing it. Ray didn't ever remember seeing him look like that before, and he really wished he hadn't seen it now, but there it was. And if Vecchio died --   
  
Which he wasn't going to --  
  
"Where the fuck is that ambulance?" Ray said.  
  
Ray Vecchio couldn't die, because Benton Fraser needed him. A blind man could see it, and Ray was _wearing_ his glasses ....


End file.
